A New Flame
The Lighting Of The Fire A young boy drifted across the ocean in a large ship. He sat slouched in his seat, his tan skin gleaming under the suns light. He looked up into the sky deeply he seemed to be thinking about something, but his face seemed slightly perplexed. He looked around scanning his surroundings only able to see the open ocean and the occasional fish or bird. The ocean seemed so vast and large, the ship was only a large dot drifting off to wherever fate carried it. "Ugh, sailing without a crew is sooooooooooooo, annoying, there's no one to laugh with, joke with, train with, I have this big ass ship I stole and no one to share it with, It's gonna be a HUGE pain in the ass but, I think its time to find a crew". Brennan kicked back steering his ship with he feet as he leaned back in his chair. The scent of the ocean wafted through the deck of his ship as he sailed towards an unknown island, seagulls past buy peacfully and fish flutter in the water almost as though they were butterflies. Brennan took time to admire the birds as he drifted to sleep, as he slowly moved towards the island many fishing ships were surrounding the island and a dock could be seen far in the distance. A large screeched was heard, Brennan jolted from his sleep as the scratching continued on, attacking his earS. The sound was seemingly coming from the side of his ship. "WHAT THE FUCK IS SCRATCHING MY SHIP!?!?" Brennan raced over to the sound shooting his head over the edge to reveal a rock scratching his ship slowing him down. "OH HELL NO!!!!" Brennan raised his hand coating it in a fire. He jumped down, sliding down the side of his ship. He punched the rock to pieces. He jumped back to the deck of his Ship. He looked back at the shrapnel of the rock angrily. "Serves you right, Don't EVER, Fuck with my shit again". He says stupidly mocking an inanimate object. He sat back in his chair, taking a swig of mango juice disguised in a whiskey bottle because he was to bitch to drink real liquor. "Well, I guess I'm stopping at this island then, let's hope there some promising pirates here, cuz I don't recruit bitches". He closely approached the island, he jumped off his ship tieing the rope to the dock and dropping its anchor. He looked back at his ship to see a huge gash on the side of it. "FUUUUCCCKKK, THAT'S GONNA BE A BITCH AND A HALF TO GET FIXED!!". He screamed angrily scaring nearby birds from the docks and confusing the fisherman that surrounded the island. He then walked off angrily into town, with only one goal, finding a member. Rook to I2 [[Fers Rook]] was a simple man with a simple life. He lived on the island of , in to be specific. He spent his days diving into the deep waters surrounding the island to search for any Dials that may have found their way from the White-White Sea to the Blue below. When he wasn't doing that, he was making a living selling the various weapons he made to the pirates that often populated the town. It was a nice life for someone like him. But lately it has been feeling like a rather empty routine. He needed a change...adventure. He rarely found any dials here nowadays, anyway, so travelling would be best for collection purposes. But where? He didn't have a destination in mind, a purpose. He didn't even have a mode of transportation. He couldn't just set out with his tools and his hopes and dreams and pray that he stumbled upon something to help him along. The world didn't work that way. Well, unless you were the main protagonist in someone's story. But he wasn't. At least not to his knowledge. He was lost in thought in his shop, buffing one blade or another while keeping an eye on the two pirates that entered. Someone always tried to steal from him, he didn't really count it as a successful business day until someone tried. His ears honed in on their conversation and caught the tail end of it. "...hear about the rookie out there advertising his crew?" "Gehaha! Yeah, what kinda chump does that? Might as well try to put up posters and hand out fliers!" They both laughed and checked out a couple more weapons before leaving, with nothing hastily stuffed in their clothing or hidden away that Rook could see. He mulled over the information they had given and thought about it. He could definitely make it as a pirate, with a good crew. He wasn't too shabby as a quartermaster, so he could make himself useful. And his sabers could diversify anyone's arsenal of weapons. He decided he would at least try the pirate route and if that didn't work out, he'd think of something else. Maybe try to settle in a new island, start fresh. But for now, he'd seek out this guy who was apparently advertising his crew loudly to anyone who would listen. If he needed members, he'd be more likely to accept Rook, especially with what he was bringing to the table. He grabbed Rapscallion from behind his counter and closed shop for the day, ignoring the various complaints from would-be customers as he made his way out into the town proper. To Catch A Fox Winds That Guide Us